Katsuobushi
by SUITELIFEFAN
Summary: Naruto had no idea that Sasuke could even cook, let alone make his favourite food in the whole world.
1. Chapter 1

**Katsuobushi - Chapter 1**

When thirteen-year-old Uchiha Sasuke arrived at Team 7's usual meeting spot and failed to spot either of his annoying teammates, he knew something was amiss. The blond ball of vexatious energy was usually the last one to arrive at their scheduled meetings, but pink-haired Sakura was almost definitely the first to arrive every time, usually waiting patiently for her crush to show up so she could fawn over how good his hair looked, or how nice his clothes were, barring the fact that Sasuke wore the same self-prescribed attire every single day.

The annoying girl was most definitely not around.

What caused Sasuke to raise his eyebrows even higher was the fact that their Jōnin team captain and closet pervert Hatake Kakashi was leaning against a nearby tree, his exposed eye closed and his hands in his pockets, as though waiting for his arrival. Kakashi, as high-ranking as he was amongst the ninjas of Kohonagakure, was most decidedly _not_ a punctual person. Arriving at their designated meeting spot at the correct time was nowadays merely a formality, with their team leader once making them wait for a grueling three hours before showing up just to say that he had nothing for them to accomplish that day. As much as he respected the man's abilities, Sasuke had a remarkably low opinion of his sensei's lazy personality and shoddy work ethic.

Kakashi opened his one unshielded eye upon sensing his student's presence and threw out his usual greeting.

"Yo."

"Hn."

_As expected from the littlest Uchiha._

Sasuke's innate superiority complex was evident in the way he addressed his superior, his body rigid and upright, his arms crossed firmly over his chest, his expression a mix of haughtiness and nonchalance that was, as far as Kakashi could remember amongst all who he had gotten to know during his lifetime, unique to the Uchiha clan. The black haired boy appeared to be trying to stare down a ninja superior to him in both age and skill, and if any other ninja _aside_ from Hatake Kakashi had tried to match the sole survivor of the Uchiha massacre in a staring contest, they would likely have yielded immediately after being sufficiently intimidated by the boy's cold onyx eyes.

Kakashi, however, was far too used to Sasuke's presence to be remotely affected and far too lazy to give a damn.

After a few tense and unnecessary minutes in his attempted dominant position, Sasuke sighed and uncrossed his arms, breaking eye contact with Kakashi with slight chagrin. Beneath his black mask, Kakashi smirked at his young charge's small pout, his mirth reflected in the crinkles around his eyes.

"What's the mission today, Kakashi-sensei?"

"No mission today, Sasuke. Naruto is unwell and is in no condition to participate in any missions. Since our group is incomplete there doesn't seem to be much point in trying to do anything, so I've already sent Sakura home…"

Sasuke raised an eyebrow. The very idea of Uzumaki Naruto being taken ill seemed contradictory to its very core. As much as Sasuke hated to admit it, Naruto's constitution was even better than his own. He had seen Naruto walk away from severe, sometimes life-threatening injuries. Especially considering how overly and annoyingly enthusiastic Naruto was about missions, he must have been stricken by a truly dangerous illness for him to call in sick. Sasuke honestly didn't care much about Dead Last, but if they were to be a proper team, he supposed it would be obligatory for him to show at least a smidge of concern.

"What's he sick with?"

"The flu."

Sasuke scoffed. He had expected something far more dramatic.

"Typical of the dobe to get sick with something so mundane."

"Hey hey, the flu can be quite dangerous, y'know."

"I've gotten it before. Didn't hurt me. The dobe's making excuses."

"I visited him earlier this morning. It appears that he's too weak to even get out of bed. It's a strange sight, seeing him nearly bedridden instead of bouncing off the walls and ceilings. I even offered to buy him ramen if he could follow me to our meeting spot, but he was too dizzy and feverish to even get up."

"Hn. Like I care."

Kakashi grinned at the boy's bid at indifference. Those who didn't know the little Uchiha well enough might have been fooled by his upturned nose, his blasé posture and uncaring air, but then again, Kakashi of the Sharingan was far too acute and far too experienced in analysing the mannerisms of Uchiha Sasuke to fall for such simple tricks of body language. The slight worry that Kakashi could see in Sasuke's atramentous eyes were the one flaw that he didn't manage to hide, a small chink in his facade of an armor that revealed his true emotions.

Sasuke was actually _worried_ about Naruto.

"You know I can tell when you're lying, Sasuke-kun. You're actually concerned about Naruto, aren't you?"

Sasuke didn't answer his sensei's question, but from the light blush on his cheeks and the cold glare that he was throwing upwards at his significantly taller teacher, it appeared that Kakashi had hit his mark. Kakashi was practically glowing at his successful figurative prodding at Sasuke's aloof exterior. Making Sasuke break character was way too fun an opportunity to pass up. Kakashi was tempted to ruffle Sasuke's hair to make fun of him even further, but upon consideration of the potential repercussions, he decided that risking losing his hand via an Uchiha Bite just wasn't worth it.

A very naughty idea then popped into his head, Kakashi barely concealing his delight at the opportune situation.

"I want you to go and visit Naruto."

Sasuke's expression darkened considerably, if that was even possible. Of all the things that he could be doing on a mission-less day, namely training, exercise and more training, visiting a sick dobe held nearly no appeal to him.

"Sensei, I'm not interested in visiting-"

"He's your teammate, Sasuke."

"He's my teammate for _missions_, we're not exactly friendly with each other outside of-"

"He needs somebody to care for him. I don't think having him alone at home is a very good idea."

"Then _fucking visit him yourself!_"

A normal sensei would have smacked his normal student on the head for swearing at him, but Kakashi, Sasuke and their teacher-student dynamic were most definitely not normal. Instead, Kakashi merely smiled at the thirteen-year-old's outburst, said thirteen-year-old trying hard to burn his teacher with his gaze alone.

"I have things to do. The, er, Hokage has called all the Jōnin together for an...emergency meeting."

"_Liar!_"

"Oh will you look at the time. I need to go now. All the best, Sasuke-kun. Tell Naruto-kun I said hi."

Kakashi didn't even bother to make his tone more convincing before he vanished in a puff of smoke, his lie sounding almost as lazy as his personality.

Sasuke felt his eye start to twitch, unsure of what was exactly making him angrier, the fact that his sensei has thrust upon him what was rightfully his own duty, or the fact that he would actually have to spend time with a sickly and snivelling dobe. If Naruto's personality when he was healthy was any indication, he was going to be infinitely more intolerable when he was sick. Just as the idea of simply not going over to Naruto's place popped into his head, Kakashi, as though reading his mind, reappeared on the tree next to him.

"Oh yes, Sasuke-kun, make sure you don't blow off my instructions, yes? If you do, I will know. And if you do, I'll be sure to give Sakura-chan a copy of your house key so she can come and go as she pleases. It'll make a very good upcoming birthday present for her, don't you think?"

And just to add insult to injury, Kakashi took advantage of Sasuke's momentary speechlessness at his threat to run his hand through Sasuke's thick, black hair, messing it up considerably before quickly extracting it and giving the rapidly fuming boy a wink.

"Don't let me down, Sasuke-kun!"

Another puff of smoke, and he was gone.

Sasuke stood alone at Team 7's designated meeting spot for a few minutes, trying his best to contain his anger. It appeared that there was now one _other_ man that he had to kill. As his clenched fists continued to shake despite his best efforts to calm himself, he let out a feral growl towards the sky and cursed the heavens.

"God fucking DAMMIT!"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note <strong>- Hello all! I'm new to this fandom, and this will be my first (and hopefully not last) work here. This is going to be a relatively short story that'll be completed in a few chapters, which is a good idea, cause I'm usually quite fickle when it comes to large story ideas.

This chapter was more of a setup for the main idea than anything, I'll be having more fun in the next few chapters. I hope you guys enjoyed this nonetheless.

Reviews appreciated.

~SUITELIFEFAN


	2. Chapter 2

**Katsuobushi - Chapter 2**

When Sasuke awoke from his slumber in his fortress of solitude that morning, he had intended to simply take a shower, change into a fresh set of clothes, set off for his team's assigned mission of the day and return in the afternoon for some training by himself. The last thing he expected was to find himself in the home of his rival, cautiously stepping over empty ramen cups strewn haphazardly on the floor, and trying not to gag on the smell of a glass of spoilt milk sitting on the dirty table in the living room.

The house was silent aside from faint whimpering noises coming from the bedroom.

Sighing to himself and once again inwardly cursing Kakashi into oblivion, Sasuke picked up the half-filled glass and, with his shirt pressed firmly against his nose with one hand, walked it to the kitchen and disposed of the putrid milk inside of it. He stepped out of the kitchen, saw the messy living room, and bit his lip in frustration. Before he knew it, Sasuke had, with considerable speed, thrown the empty ramen cups (Sasuke lost count of how many he had touched about halfway through the process) into the bin, tied up the already festering garbage bag and tossed it out the door onto the dobe's front porch.

Sasuke didn't know what had possessed him to help with Naruto's obvious lackadaisical neglect of his living conditions, but the clean freak in him simply couldn't let trash lie around, no matter where it was.

"Oi, dobe! Don't you clean this place once in a while, you lazy shit?"

Not getting a reply, Sasuke frowned before walking towards the bedroom. It seemed to be in Naruto's very nature to immediately throw back an insult when he received one, therefore his silence on the matter of his laziness and his shittiness was alarming indeed. Sasuke wondered how far out of it Naruto had to be to actually decline a verbal battle.

Pushing the door to the bedroom open, Sasuke stepped into the room only to stop short at the miserable sight in front of him. A blond head of hair was sticking out from a pile of blankets, the entire mass quivering slightly, hands sticking out from underneath the covers and gripping at the blankets with all their might. Sasuke could hear faint breathing noises, and once in a while a cough or a sniffle would break the pattern of interspersed inhaling and exhaling. Further observation indicated that the sheets appeared to be slightly damp. His disbelief and disgust at the thought of Naruto actually wetting his bed gave way to relieved understanding when he saw the thin layer of sweat on the small area of Naruto's exposed forehead before it concealed itself in the darkness of the comforter.

"Dobe. Hey, dobe…"

Sasuke leant forward and rested his knees on Naruto's bed, reaching over to tug at the mass of blankets. The boy seemed not to notice his presence, not giving any indication of awareness of the fact that there was somebody else on his bed. Rolling his eyes, Sasuke gripped the top of the Naruto's comforter and pulled it down to expose his face.

What he saw nearly made him, Uchiha "Emotionless" Sasuke, lose his perfectly rigid composure.

Naruto's complexion was paler than Sasuke had ever seen him. Dark rings were present around his eyes, undoubtedly from lack of sleep. The eyes themselves were reddened by exhaustion, and Sasuke could spot a few faint tear marks streaking down from his eyes to the side of his face. Naruto's nose was running like a tap, and from the countless balls of tissue paper scattered on and around the bed, it was likely that it had been running for nearly the entire night. Sasuke then noticed a bucket on the other side of Naruto's bed. Craning his neck to look into it, he realised that it was nearly a quarter full with Naruto's vomit.

_Damn, the dobe really is sick._

Sasuke's brow furrowed in worry.

"Oi, Naruto. Are you okay? Talk to me, dobe."

"Hn."

Sasuke almost wanted to smack Naruto on the head for stealing his line, but he feared that the joke would have been lost in the situation.

"Dobe. Seriously."

"Hn."

Naruto drew his pyjamas sleeve across his face, smearing it with tears and mucus, an action that made Sasuke cringe and inch away from him.

"That's disgusting, dobe. Kakashi told me to come and look after-"

"Hn!"

Before Sasuke could even finish his sentence, Naruto turned his head and pressed it tightly into his already dirtied pillow, covering his ears in desperation and silently nudging Sasuke off the bed. Sasuke would have been offended by being so rudely cut off in the middle of speaking if Naruto hadn't been a ball of sweat, tears and sick. Realising that the boy was probably in no condition to talk, Sasuke slipped off Naruto's sweat-stained bed and inched back towards the door.

A stray thought caused him to stop in his tracks. If Naruto really had been sick since the previous night (as the shear number of tissue balls suggested), and Kakashi was right in stating that he was completely unable of getting out of bed, it was unlikely that the blond-haired child had eaten anything since at least twelve hours ago. Judging from the bucket of sick, it was likely that he had thrown up his last ingested meal as well.

Even dobes needed to eat once in a while, right?

_Maybe I should make him something_.

Sasuke nearly smacked himself on the head for even thinking of that suggestion, but instead settled with pouting to himself as he leant against Naruto's bedroom wall, his eyes directed at the quivering ball on the bed, two voices arguing with each other in his adolescent head.

_The dobe can look after himself._

_Look at him! He can't even get out of bed!_

_I'm not wasting my effort to cook for him. He'd probably just guzzle it down without any appreciation whatsoever, knowing him._

_Doesn't matter. You know the right thing to do. Naruto's sick and he needs food. You're in the best position right now to give it to him._

_Yeah but-_

_Teme._

_Dobe._

Realising that his inner voices had regressed to insulting one another, Sasuke sighed heavily as he stepped back into the kitchen. Not only had he been Naruto's housemaid by cleaning up his dirty living room, but it appeared that he was going to become his personal chef as well. Not wanting to admit that he was actually concerned about his teammate, Sasuke settled with reasoning with himself, justifying that if he didn't give the dobe _some_ food, Kakashi would punish him by giving his privacy away to their team's annoying pink-head. Also, as he made meals for himself at home all the time, it was highly unlikely that making another portion would take any effort whatsoever.

A string of desperate arguments to defend his stoic image in his head, Sasuke finally felt comfortable enough to start his work in Naruto's kitchen.

* * *

><p>"What in the actual fuck…"<p>

The first cabinet in the kitchen which he opened was stocked full of small cups of instant ramen, the cups stacked neatly in rows of ten and completely filling up all available space, it's very existence a juxtaposition to the utter disarray that the living room had been in when Sasuke had first stepped into the house. A quick survey of the cups indicated that there were about a hundred in that single cabinet. Shaking his head and muttering under his breath about the lack of nutritional value in instant store-bought ramen, Sasuke closed the first cabinet and shifted himself to face the second.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Sasuke could feel his eyes starting to twitch as they rested upon yet another perfectly arranged array of ramen cups, these a different colour from the ones he had seen in the first cabinet. He slammed the door shut in irritation, giving the cabinet an unwarranted kick and a dirty look before he approached another adjacent to it. His search yielded yet another cabinet full of Sasuke's hated ramen cups, and as he quickly perused the kitchen for something that could be of actual culinary use without being needlessly unhealthy, the frustration that he felt upon finding continuous masses of instant noodles loaded with preservatives gradually gave way to concern as he opened cabinet after cabinet, none yielding anything more than ramen and an unopened bag of flour.

Sasuke's paused his almost desperate search for something remotely palatable to throw a worried gaze at Naruto's bedroom door. The sound of whimpering had finally regressed into congested snoring, indicating that his blond rival had finally been able to get some sleep. Sasuke picked up one of the cups of instant ramen and stared at it absentmindedly, his brow furrowed.

_Is this what the dobe has been eating every day?_

Team Seven met nearly every other day to train together and complete missions, some of which were physically demanding and required sufficient energy. While Naruto had never shown any sign of exhaustion, in fact usually looking as though he had enough energy for the three of them combined, how had he been able to survive on substandard food for so long? How much nutrition could a body leech from preserved flour, starch and salt? How was it possible that _anybody_ could exist on instant noodles and hot water for every meal?

Why didn't Naruto bother to prepare proper food? Was he simply too lazy to give a damn about looking after himself properly?

After the volley of questions running through his head, Sasuke then stumbled upon a realisation that sent his gaze shooting back towards the bedroom door, the unopened ramen cup banished from his hand to the kitchen counter. An expression akin to dismay appeared on his face, looking horribly out of place on the boyishly handsome features of an Uchiha offspring. Sasuke felt himself leaning against the refrigerator, his body barely registering his own movement.

Naruto never had anybody to teach him how to cook.

Both Naruto and Sasuke were orphans, and Sasuke had never seriously bothered to compare his plight and pain with Naruto's own, having always felt that he had gotten the shorter end of the stick, his family present for the first few years of his life before being ruthlessly snatched away by the actions of a man whom he had loved, and believed loved him. Sasuke had always looked down on Naruto for that express reason, that mildly masochistic idea of the "worse-off" competition. As far as he was concerned, Sasuke had experienced the greatest horrors. Naruto never knew his parents, and therefore couldn't claim that he missed his family as he never had a proper family to miss.

But as Uchiha Sasuke stood silently in Uzumaki Naruto's kitchen and stared at the vast multitude of instant ramen cups, he was suddenly overcome with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Naruto had never had anybody to care for him, to impart wisdom that a parent would teach to their child, to show him how to chop carrots and knead dough. As much as Sasuke tried to abandon the ties that he had attained in the past for the purpose of grief and revenge, he could never deny the fact that his mother and father had given him knowledge that he would use throughout his life, whether consciously or otherwise.

The value behind such knowledge was now blindingly obvious. Sasuke could cook for himself perfectly well and was growing into a fine specimen of a man, while Naruto's growth was painfully stunted by his lack of proper nutrition.

It was something that Sasuke couldn't exactly blame Naruto for.

Shaking the slight guilt that he was feeling out of his head, Sasuke straightened his posture resolutely before tugging the bag of flour out of its cabinet, the one ingredient in the entire kitchen that he was willing to use. Turning to face the refrigerator, he inhaled a deep breath as he prayed that there would be something, just _something_ that he could use to make a proper meal.

Once the dobe got out of bed, Sasuke was getting proper food into his teammate even if he had to forcefully cram it into his big mouth.

* * *

><p>After the disappointing search of Naruto's kitchen, his refrigerator yielded a small selection of workable ingredients, proof that somebody, either Iruka or Hokage Sarutobi, was at the very least making sure that Naruto had sufficient food to survive. From the completely unopened jar of dashi, freshly sealed bag of miso paste and untouched box of eggs, it was still clear to Sasuke that Naruto probably had no idea how to use the ingredients even if he had them, a gap in basic understanding that Iruka-sensei and the Hokage had perhaps failed to take into account.<p>

Sasuke had spent the last fifteen minutes steadily kneading the dough that he made with the raw flour, eggs and water with his hands, gradually sprinkling additional flour and adding water to feed the dough when he felt it needed nourishment. After the dough finally attained the texture which he knew would yield properly prepared noodles, Sasuke left the dough to rest for the same amount of time which he had spent preparing it, a crucial step that many who attempted to make their own dough would forget in their own impatience. Sasuke briefly recalled the very same mistake he had made as a child when helping his mother in the kitchen a long time ago, and grunted. Mikoto Uchiha had always been a remarkably patient woman.

With alarming speed and flair that his countless fangirls would have swooned over (though that wasn't saying much, since they swooned over his every action anyway), Sasuke rolled, folded and cut the dough into careful strips, watching as _fresh_ ramen noodles fell onto the chopping board. He couldn't help but grin to himself in silent pride as he looked at the perfectly formed noodles, noting that it had been a long time since he had bothered to prepare fresh ramen for himself. He then carefully separated the noodles before adding them into boiling water.

Step one was complete.

Sasuke made a few valiant attempts to brush raw flour that had made its way onto his black Uchiha-crested shirt, but to no avail. Wiping his forehead clean of sweat and accidentally getting some flour onto his face in the process, Sasuke turned back to the kitchen counter, where he had placed an assortment of ingredients. All there was left to do was to prepare the broth and cook whichever additional components that he wanted to add to the ramen.

Sasuke sighed.

_The dobe had better appreciate this_.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong> - Like I said, short story. I've always had the habit of include cooking processes in my writing, sometimes when it isn't needed. Hopefully you all don't think this is one of those situations. The story should be wrapped up quite nicely in the next chapter.

Reviews appreciated.

~SUITELIFEFAN


	3. Chapter 3

**Katsuobushi - Chapter 3**

Sasuke entered Naruto's home through a window as quickly as his legs could carry him, his haste brought about by the shrill sound of boiling soup, the pot lid vibrating violently as the air trapped inside it's container threatened to push it over the brim. Placing the jar that he had obtained from his own home safely on the kitchen counter, Sasuke swore under his breath as he removed the pot lid and turned down the fire.

In the midst of his cooking, he had realised that one of his favourite flavor additions couldn't be found in Naruto's home. Unwilling to only partially finish what he had intended to make, Sasuke had left the soup for the ramen boiling as he skipped across Kohona's roofs, sure that he could make it back to his own home, retrieve the ingredient and return before the soup over-boiled. In most situations, Sasuke was correct. In this case, however, he had apparently underestimated the eagerness of his soup, the final and most complex component in his dish. The mixture of pork bone broth, dashi, soy sauce and miso was a tasteful combination, but remarkably volatile.

Praying that his slow speed had not resulted in spoilt soup, Sasuke placed a wooden spoon into the pot and, blowing on it gently, prepared to taste it. He was interrupted by a small groan and the sound of an opening door.

"Oh, dobe. You're awake."

Judging by the state that Naruto was in, Sasuke was surprised that Naruto even had the strength to stand, let alone slowly stumble out of his room, albeit wrapped in his multitude of blankets and looking considerably worse for wear. Naruto's eyes were glazed over as he turned his head to survey his home. His mental faculties were not in the best state, as Sasuke realised when Naruto turned his red eyes after a few tense seconds to the kitchen and widened them in surprise.

His voice was weak.

"Teme? What're you doing here?"

"I've been in for a while. I went into your room just now and spoke to you, don't you remember?"

"Hn...no."

Sasuke turned his head back to his pot of soup to hide the small smile on his face. An illness-subdued, disorientated Naruto was somewhat funny. Naruto continued to stare at his rival in his confused state, his body tilting somewhat precariously as he struggled to find his balance.

"Doesn't matter. Sit down at the table, dobe."

Naruto growled.

"Teme...don't try and order me around, damn you."

Sasuke's smile grew wider. Apparently the flu couldn't keep Naruto's argumentative personality down completely. As he slowly poured his miso-based soup into two pre-prepared bowls, each with a hearty amount of ramen, spinach, bean sprouts, spring onions and a single bisected hard-boiled egg in it, he heard the sound of a chair being dragged out from under the kitchen table behind him. A cursory glance behind him indicated that Naruto had decided to take that seat after all, his head resting on the table and his eyes shut in frustrated exhaustion.

Stirring the bowls of hot ramen with chopsticks and watching the steam rise in billows from the surface of the browned soup, Sasuke reached for the jar of his favourite condiment and opened it. Sticking two fingers tenderly into the tiny container, he extracted a handful of dried and smoked flapjack tuna, katsuobushi, and gently scattered a generous helping of tuna shavings on the surface of the miso ramen.

The katsuobushi fluttered gracefully due to the hot air rising from the piping-hot soup, giving the bowl both an aesthetic and an ethereal quality.

Repeating the process on the second bowl, Sasuke picked both bowls up and turned slowly. Walking towards the table, he realised that Naruto had actually fallen asleep right at the kitchen table, a small sliver of drool making it's way across it's clean surface.

_Tsch. Dobe._

Naruto's head then shot up the moment the two bowls, heavy with soup and ramen, made contact with the table. In his disorientation, the little blond-haired boy looked up at Sasuke, still with reddened eyes, and frowned.

"Teme? What're you doing here?"

Resisting the urge to scoff, Sasuke ignored Naruto's question, merely pulling out his own chair and taking a seat opposite Naruto at the kitchen table. He placed one hand on the bowl furthest from him and, with extreme caution, pushed it carefully in front of his sick teammate, a pair of chopsticks and a spoon balanced precariously on the bowl's rim.

"Hn. Eat, dobe."

Sasuke picked up his own chopsticks and tentatively used them to pick up a few strands of his homemade ramen noodles. Drawing them into his mouth, Sasuke took a bite and chewed slowly, relieved that the noodles were springy right to the degree that he wanted them. Then noticing that something was amiss, he frowned before spooning some of his miso soup and raising the spoon to his lips. His frown turned into a grimace as he tasted the salty liquid. The few additional minutes he had spent making his way back to Naruto's apartment had apparently broken the soup's consistency. Although the soup still tasted remarkably flavorful, the perfectionist in Sasuke couldn't help but sulk as he glared down at a good, but imperfect bowl of miso ramen.

_Shit_.

Wondering what Naruto was going to say about his sub-par soup, Sasuke raised his head to observe his blond teammate and ask about the food, stopping short when he realised that Naruto hadn't moved from his position, his head bent down over the bowl of steaming hot ramen, the chopsticks and spoon still placed on the rim of the bowl, unused and untouched.

"Oi, dobe."

The slight shudder that ran through the boy's body caught Sasuke's eye, and for one horrific moment he thought that Naruto was feeling the urge to throw up again. Just as he was about to lift himself off his chair and fetch the trashbin from the kitchen, Naruto raised his head. The sight that greeted him stunned Sasuke into silence, the little Uchiha gripping the edge of the table as he sat back down onto his seat.

Naruto's eyes were red. Not from illness or tiredness, but from emotion.

Sasuke could barely speak as Naruto's eyes looked straight into his own, tears streaming slowly down his scarred cheeks and dripping down onto the table, barely missing the bowl of ramen in front of him.

"You...made me ramen?"

Sasuke could only nod as he watched Naruto's lower lip tremble, wondering just how emotional the boy could get over a bowl of noodles. Sasuke knew that Naruto loved ramen, but he didn't know that he was so obsessed with it as to cry when seeing a bowl of it. He was ready to scold the blond for being so emotionally attached to an inanimate object, when Naruto raised his pyjamas sleeve and wiped the tear tracks off his face, plainly struggling to regain his composure as he addressed his black-haired rival.

"Nobody has ever...made me homecooked food before."

Sasuke's eyes widened in realisation of the fact that his earlier hypothesis about Naruto's living conditions were right. Instead of feeling proud over his correct assumption, as he usually felt during training sessions with Kakashi, Sasuke felt the sinking feeling that he had experienced earlier that day in Naruto's kitchen for the second time as he silently watched a boy break down over a simple bowl of miso ramen. To have something cooked with fresh ingredients and not preserved noodles and hot water, and to have the food placed in front of him without expectation of monetary reward or favor, must have been an intense new concept for him.

Naruto's emotions were a poignant reminder of the fact that their plights, the pain felt by the sole survivor of the Uchiha massacre and the nine-tails jinchuuriki, while completely separate and different from each other, were also remarkably similar in essence.

The kitchen was silent, except for quiet sniffling on the part of the blond boy.

The katsuobushi on both bowls continued to flutter.

Sasuke didn't know what to say or do. He was never good at comforting people. His childhood had been spent alongside elders who pushed him to achieve greatness instead of embracing any semblance of emotion. The air started to still from the awkwardness permeating the room. Instead of trying to make an awkward joke to break the tension, or spring to Naruto's side to take him in his arms, or make fun of Naruto for crying before returning to his own bowl of ramen, Sasuke dealt with the situation in the only way a stoic Uchiha knew how.

"Hn. Eat the ramen before it gets cold, dobe."

Somehow, that one line was enough. Naruto snatched up his chopsticks and his spoon, and with great vigor, tucked into his food. All fears that Naruto would complain about the weakened miso soup were thrown out of the window when his first bite yielded starry eyes and a massive grin. Naruto continued tugging and chewing at the noodles, his intense hunger finally sinking in, as he paused only to take a bite of the hard-boiled egg or sip from his spoon. His voracious eating was punctuated with noodle-mouthed shouts.

"Sasuke! It's really good!"

"Don't talk with your mouth full, dobe."

"Oi, don't call me that, teme!"

"Hn."

"What's this brownish wiggly thing?"

"That's katsuobushi. It's shaved tuna flakes."

"It's so tasty!"

"You're too loud. Shut up and eat."

As the two boys tucked into their food, they didn't notice the presence of a certain silver-haired Jōnin watching them from atop a tree outside Naruto's home. He could smell the delectable soup from where he sat, and he made a mental reminder to demand at some point that Sasuke make him that same dish on threat of losing his privacy privileges. He had no idea that his aloof student was also, aside from a talented young shinobi, a good cook.

Hatake Kakashi smiled under his mask as he watched his two male students bond over noodles and hot soup. Tucking his copy of Icha Icha Paradise back into his shirt, he scaled the roofs of Kohonagure, leaving the two children to their own tasty devices.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note - <strong>And there we go. I hope you all enjoyed this short story. Admittedly I was expected a few more reviews, but no matter. This small idea had been stuck in my head for the longest time and I've been dying to get it out. Thank you all for allowing me to indulge in it.

Reviews appreciated.

~SUITELIFEFAN


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